


Blood is Thicker

by ohmytheon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:11:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmytheon/pseuds/ohmytheon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Gendry is Stannis Baratheon's bastard, not Robert's. The boy is Stannis' one shameful secret and he aims to keep it a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burying Your Secret

**Author's Note:**

> I can't remember where this idea came from, except that it was inspired by something I saw forever ago.

Stannis had tried not to make any sort of reaction when Jon Arryn had suggested they look around King’s Landing for yet another one of Robert’s bastards. This would be the fifth one they found, but every time they found one, it got closer and closer to the cut and he could only grind his teeth in agitation. Stannis had an idea about why Jon wanted to seek out Robert’s bastards. Anyone that sat and thought on it could see the reason just by glancing at Joffrey, Tommen, or Myrcella. Still, it made him nervous digging in a place that he felt should be left untouched. Robert wanted nothing to do with the women that had fathered his bastard children and even less with the bastards he’d whelped. They shouldn’t get involved with these children either. They had bad blood, bastard blood.

_Baratheon blood, our blood._

“This is the last one in King’s Landing, I think,” Jon had told him that morning when they were alone. Stannis had simply nodded his head and went with it, not saying a word about his hesitations.

Now it was midday and they were [traveling](http://ohmytheon.tumblr.com/post/25108219683/blood-is-thicker-stannis-baratheon-and-gendry) through the city. Stannis rode behind Jon, watching the people that they passed by. Any one of these people could be spying on them for Varys, the Queen, or Littlefinger. Any one of these people could be reporting to someone else about where they were going or what they were doing. There were more spies than actual citizens in this city sometimes. He trusted few people in this town, probably only Lord Arryn. Renly still acted like a boy and Robert was too busy with his drinking and whoring. But he could not trust one person with everything, not Jon Arryn or Davos Seaworth or his wife. Stannis had little time for secrets, but there were some things even an honest man would take to his grave nonetheless.

“Where are we headed?” Stannis asked as he forced his horse to trot alongside Jon’s.

The older man scratched at his graying beard. “I believe I found Robert’s oldest male bastard at a smithy owned by a man named Tobho Mott.”

Stannis felt his throat closing in on him, but he forced himself to nod his head again and then look away. He could not allow Jon to see the conflicted look on his face. They rode the rest of the way in silence. Stannis preferred it that way, but now he was left with his troubling thoughts. It was Robert’s bastard that they would find. Stannis had no doubt about that. After all, no one would question it. Robert had made making bastards more of a business than being king. What did it matter anyways? Robert had over a dozen bastards running around Westeros. What did another one mean?

Once at the armory shop, both men got off their horses and tied them up. Jon went into the building first while Stannis paused. He hadn’t been here in five years, and it felt strange to come back. When he stepped inside the building, it looked like most places. Perhaps the work was a little finer than most other smith’s around here, but he’d seen better too. Jon was talking to the owner, Tobho Mott, about the mysterious man that had come and paid the bastard boy’s apprentice fee. Had he been another person, he might have smiled to himself, but he set his mouth in a grim line. Perhaps that had been the only time Stannis had ever felt that Varys was useful. For all his spying, he was a very discrete man. Stannis did not go to the two men and instead walked past them, towards the noise of a hammer ringing against metal.

The forge was filled with heat. The crackling of the burning coils seemed to sing with the sound of metal against metal. There was a stark contrast with the armor in here compared to outside on display. There were a few pieces in here that were quite impressive. A bull’s helm caught his eye, and he walked over to it, not caring about the heat the fire. He picked up the helm, moving it between his hands, feeling the smoothness of it and gazing at the fine detail and shape. It was a very fine work from a very good blacksmith. Tobho Mott must’ve slaved away on it.

Stannis was too distracted to notice that the sound of the hammer banging on metal had stopped. He was only pulled out of his thoughts when a petulant voice interrupted them: “That’s _mine_.”

When Stannis looked up to see who the voice belonged to and to tell them just who they were dealing with, he was caught off guard by who he was greeting. The boy was tall and broad for his age, probably due to working in a blacksmith shop, but even in the dim lighting of the forge, Stannis could tell what the boy looked like clear as day. He had coffee black hair that hung in his eyes and over his ears and the brightest blue eyes that spoke of defiance.

 _Baratheons are always too bold for their own good._ But this one wasn’t a Baratheon. He was a bastard.

“Do you know who I am, boy?” Stannis asked harshly.

The boy screwed his face up in concentration, looking at the older man more carefully. His eyes were more adjusted to this lighting than Stannis’, but it still made it difficult to see, especially since they weren’t standing right by the fire. The boy finally frowned and made a funny, little bow, as if he was rarely around those that were high born. Mott must’ve made sure the boy stayed in the back away from the customers for the most part. “Yes, m’lord, you’re Stannis Baratheon.” And then his eyes flicked back up to Stannis’ face, “But that helm’s still mine, m’lord. It’s not for sale. I made it for me.”

Stannis held out the helm. “You made this?”

“Yes, m’lord.”

Stannis examined it again and then handed it back over to the boy. His hands and face were covered in soot, reminding Stannis of all the times Robert would come back to Storm’s End covered in dirt and blood from a hunt, grinning like the idiot he was. “That’s fine work for a boy of…”

“Four and ten.”

The age was right, Stannis realized. “Four and ten? And you’re already able to shape metal like that?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders. “I’m good at what I do, m’lord. My master says I was made to wield a hammer.”

Perhaps it was more than that. Robert had been built to wield a warhammer, as he had done in battle. Stannis had always thought Robert a fool, until he’d smashed Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident with his warhammer. This boy though – it was a little more than that. Anyone could see that he had Baratheon blood in him and the fact that he could smith like this at such a young age was proof that he was strong and even talented. He used a hammer, just like Robert. That would be exactly what Jon would think and say once he saw the boy. He was living proof of the strength of Baratheon seed. It didn’t matter what his mother looked like. There was not a single hint of his mother in him.

“What is your name?” Stannis asked.

“Gendry, m’lord,” the boy responded, his eyes dropping again.

“So you’re a bastard then.” Stannis didn’t mean for his words to come out carefully, but they did. Gendry nodded his head, his eyes still trained on the ground. It was one thing to be a lowborn in the presence of a highborn; it was quite another to be a bastard. “Do you know who your father is?”

Gendry looked back up to him. They looked at each other in a moment of silence, and for a second, Stannis felt like he might panic, but he didn’t. It must have been strange for the boy though, being spoken to a man that looked like himself. Stannis wondered if the boy might be thinking that he was speaking with his father, but if he did, he said nothing of the sort. Gendry shook his head. “No, m’lord, I never knew my father. My mum never talked about him; and I barely even knew her. She died when I was little.”

“Do you want to know?” Stannis found himself asking, as if someone else was asking the question and not himself.

Gendry furrowed his brows and looked at him with distrust. He set his mouth in a line, practically mirroring Stannis without even realizing it. Finally, the boy said, “I don’t see how knowing who abandoned me and my mum would change anything.”

Stannis did not think that the stark words would sting. He did not think that the guilt would bite so hard. He did not think that seeing this boy that was clearly of the same blood as him would actually hurt. But he had been wrong. The boy was right. His father had abandoned him, like many men did when they accidentally fathered a child. His father had left him on his own. His father had left him with no name or House of his own; and when his mother had died, his father had left him with no family either. How cruel could one man be to an innocent child? This had been the very reason that Stannis had so loathed Robert’s loose abandon with whores and women. It wasn’t just dishonorable, but it was a disgrace and it always left someone hurt in the end. Creating a bastard wasn’t the only consequence of such dishonors; that bastard had to grow and live as well.

“You truly have no interest in knowing?”

“Why would I?” Gendry replied, somewhat fiercely. “Do you know who my father is, m’lord?”

Stannis could have said a lot of things in that moment. He could have said that he did. He could have said that Robert was his father. He could have said that Gendry was a Waters, meaning that he was a highborn’s bastard. He could have said that he might know or had heard a rumor. He could have told the damned truth, a truth that had been haunting him every day since his great mistake. It had been before his was married to Selsye, so no one would have said anything against him. Seven hells, Robert would’ve clapped him on the back and perhaps loved him for a moment if he knew the truth. Renly would have been stunned. Everyone would be shocked.

But instead, Stannis shook his head. “I do not. I simply thought it strange that you wouldn’t even be bothered to know.”

“The man didn’t want anything to do with me,” Gendry pointed out, gripping the helm tightly in his hands, as if it might protect him, “so I don’t want anything to do with him.”

Stannis fought the urge to sigh, to shake his head, to nod his head, to slap the boy upside the head, to storm out of the armory. He could not allow for this boy to undo his steely reserve. He tapped at the helm. “If you continue to work like this and improve, perhaps one day soon, you’ll be able to leave this hovel and work for a much better price and person,” was all that he said in the end, before he turned around and walked back to the front of the shop, leaving the boy to watch his retreating figure. He nodded to Jon and walked out of the shop with Jon following him.

“So?” Jon asked as they untied their horses. “Did you see the boy?”

“Yes, I did.” Stannis did not look at him as he untied his horse and pulled himself onto the saddle.

“And?”

_And you found my one discretion. You found my bastard, not Robert’s. You found my son._

“He is Robert’s bastard son,” Stannis told him. “There is no doubt in my mind.”

 


	2. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's stupid and foolish - but Stannis can't let this boy suffer his mistake again.

He was being stupid – he was being foolish – and if there was one thing that he wasn’t, it was both of those things. And yet here he was, in King’s Landing, when he was supposed to have been on Dragonstone. _What am I doing here?_ That was a good question, one that he didn’t want to answer or even think about. As far as everyone was concerned, he was living curmudgeonly at his castle on an island that was a safe distance from this rotten city. Only a few people knew that he was here; and they were all people that he trusted to keep their silence.

Sometimes, it paid well to have a former smuggler at your side.

Stannis walked through the streets, keeping a close eye on his surroundings. It was dangerous to come here where there were spiders and birds in every corner that would whisper about his doings. No one was paying him any attention though. That could be just a trick to make him feel safe, but there was no way that Stannis would ever feel safe in King’s Landing. When he had lived here and done his position as Master of Ships, Stannis had known that almost all of his actions and words had been catalogued and watched by a spy for someone or another. Varys the Spider had seemed to know absolutely everything there was about him, which made Stannis wary even now. Ser Davos Seaworth was a good man and had been an even better smuggler, having saved countless of lives using his specific skill set, but it was still very possible that he wasn’t good enough to slip under the Spider’s nose.

Still, when Stannis had summoned Davos and asked if it was possible to get Stannis into King’s Landing without anyone knowing, Davos had said yes. He had also said it would be incredibly difficult, but he had done it before. He had also failed before too, but Stannis had done his best to ignore that second statement. There had been many of times when he could have changed his mind, but he’d pushed ahead with the plan. There had been no stopping this ship once it had sailed; and if truth be told, it had sailed many years ago, nearly sixteen to be exact. It was his fault that things had come to this in the first place, so it was his duty to ensure that the proper things were done.

He felt uncomfortable walking the streets alone, but it had been for the best. Davos had offered to accompany him, but Stannis had said no. It would make things painfully obvious. Everyone knew what man Davos Seaworth backed. He’d always had some sort of guard with him though, but this time there was no one but himself. If something went wrong, then he would only have himself to blame.

 _Robert is dead, you fool,_ Stannis thought to himself as he rounded a corner. _You can bury your secret with him._ He’d only been to his destination twice, but once had been enough to sear the route to it in his mind. _You don’t have to do this. Go back to your ship. Go back to Dragonstone._ It wasn’t like he would never return. His rightful place was on the Iron Throne. These simpletons might not have known that – most of Westeros might not have known that – but he did, and that was all that mattered.

The red woman had told him as much as well. She’d cautioned him against coming here too, but the moment she had told him that she had seen his little secret in her fires, he’d settled on the decision. By trying to warn him away, she’d helped push him into this. The Iron Throne was his, but this secret, this mistake, was his as well. He would not be the same king as Robert. There was one last thing he had to do before assuming the crown and ridding this city of those bastard Lannister children.

Stannis had to save his own bastard son first.

Tobho Mott’s armory stood in front of him, glaring and hot from the fire inside. Stannis looked at it, telling himself one last time that he could leave, but no, he couldn’t. It was far too late for that. He’d crossed a sea to do this. He could have had someone else do it – just paid someone to pay someone to pay someone to do this – but he had told himself that he could only trust himself with this job. It could somehow get back to him. He was the only one who he knew would not tell anyone. Of course Davos could have done it secretly, but he’d not wanted to explain to Davos why this boy meant anything to him. Davos knew about Stannis’ distaste towards Robert’s bastards, so it would have looked strange even to him. Edric Storm was proof enough of what Robert’s children looked like; he would not have need of another King’s Landing bastard.

No, this was his own doing – his own _undoing_ – and he needed to fix it. This boy had already paid enough for Stannis’ mistake; he did not need to pay for his life as well when that Lannister woman tried to stomp out any proof of her treachery and the truth about Robert’s children.

Stannis pulled at the hood hiding his identity and then stepped inside the shop. Tobho Mott was inside talking to a customer. The boy was nowhere in sight, most likely in the back. Stannis hung to the side, looking at a few swords, until the other customer finished his shopping and left the shop. The two men were alone.

Mott walked up to him, all jovial and irritating. Stannis suddenly remembered why he’d let both Varys and Lord Arryn do all the talking the last two times he had come here. “What can I do for you, ser?” he asked, trying to peer under the hood. It had been easy to find clothing to put on that would make him look like some hedge knight. There were enough of those running around Dragonstone.

Stannis wasted no time in pulling out a coin purse and shoving it into the man’s hands. “The boy,” he said gruffly. “His apprenticeship with you is over. He’s to join the Night’s Watch. The coin should suffice you.”

“Wait there,” Mott said, holding onto the coin purse tightly nonetheless. “The boy does good work. I earn money from his apprenticeship. And he’s a good lad. I don’t see how he’s done anything to deserve being sent to the Wall.”

Would that Stannis could to just toss his hood off. Mott wouldn’t have argued with him for a second longer. But it was anonymity that Stannis required more than anything else; and he did not trust Mott to keep his mouth shut if push came to shove. He was a businessman. All someone needed to do was wave a better reason to loose his tongue for him to speak.

Stannis grinded his teeth. “He didn’t do anything,” he pointed out, already losing his patience, “but men will come for him regardless; and it will be better for everyone if he is not here when they do.”

“Men?” Mott seemed suddenly hesitant. If there was danger to his own being, then he would send the boy away, but if he could make a larger profit off of the men that wanted the boy, well… Stannis knew how men like Tobho Mott worked. They were greedy and only saw what was best for themselves. No doubt he had a bastard or two running around. “Gold cloaks or crooks?”

“Is there any difference?” Stannis snapped. Before Mott could argue any further, Stannis grabbed the other man by his collar and shoved him back into the counter. Mott looked more than startled; he looked like he might piss himself. No, this man would not be able to hold himself under any sort of scrutiny or pressure when the gold cloaks came for the boy. He’d crack the moment they stepped inside. “You will send the boy away. I don’t care what you tell him – be it the truth or a lie – just make sure he is gone by the morning. Should anything happen, I will find you and I’ll see to it that you suffer a worse fate.”

Stannis let go of Mott, wiped his hand off, and then stormed out of the armory without another word. His ship would be leaving soon. He knew that Mott would listen to him. The boy would be sent to the Wall. It was a cold and wretched place, but he would live. He may not have his freedom, but he would have his life. Stannis had spent the entire trip to King’s Landing pondering what to do. He’d even entertained the idea of bringing the boy to Dragonstone where he could complete his armory’s apprenticeship under another blacksmith, but that would’ve been foolish. Too many people would have asked questions. Besides, the more leagues in between them, the better it would be for the both of them.

When Stannis was halfway down the street, someone shouting, “Hey, you!” stopped him short. Pinching the bridge of his nose tightly and thinking of how much he wanted to smack Tobho Mott for being so stupid, Stannis turned around, only to see the boy stomping up to him. There was such fury written all over his face and the fire in his eyes burned brighter than the nightfires Melisandre cooked up on the shores of Dragonstone. Stannis looked around, but no one was paying them any attention. After all, Stannis looked like a hedge knight and the boy, still covered in soot, looked like a poor orphan from Flee Bottom. They were the least entertaining folks to watch.

“I have a ship to catch,” was all Stannis said as a greeting, starting to turn again.

“I don’t know who you are,” Gendry growled, reaching out and grabbing Stannis by the forearm to stop him, “but I heard you in the shop. I heard what you said to Mott. He tried to tell me that I was lousy and he didn’t need me anymore, but I heard. You’re the one that wants me gone, not him.”

Stannis jerked his arm out of the boy’s grip. It had been a lot stronger than he’d expected. “Would you rather live or die?”

Gendry furrowed his brow. “What’s that supposed to–?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the recent…executions done by the gold cloaks,” Stannis interrupted. The reports that Davos had given him on the ship before they’d docked had confirmed Stannis’ fears. The boy looked less certain, but nodded his head anyways. “If you want to live, you’ll shut up, pack your bags, and head for the Wall.”

For a few minutes, Gendry seemed to be processing this information. The gold cloaks were killing Robert’s bastard children on the orders of the Queen. They were all unofficial, but everyone knew it regardless. Whispers in the street were sometimes more dangerous than a knife to the back. Neither of them said anything. They just stared at each other. Gendry wouldn’t be able to see his face, but he glared at the shadowy face. Finally, he muttered, in a very low voice that only Stannis could hear, “You said that I’d be able to smith for a better person if I kept working, but now you’re sending me to the Wall. You’re making me throw away my life in order to save it.”

It took everything in Stannis not to flinch, but he kept his composure as best as he could. “They have need of smiths at the Wall. You can serve there just as well as here.”

“Do you think that just because I’m a bastard that I might not want a wife or children when I’m a man grown?” Gendry questioned accusingly. Stannis had thought that keeping his life would be suffice enough, but he had not stopped to think that he was still dealing with a child. He may have been ten and five, but he was not quite yet a man. Even so, Stannis had not stopped to think that Gendry might have hopes and dreams like this. Gendry stepped back from him. “No, of course not, I’m just a common bastard. I’ve got no name to give a wife or any children I might have. I’d just create more stupid, dirty bastards.”

 _Like you,_ a voice whispered in the back of Stannis’ mind. _Like Robert._

“You will have your life,” Stannis ground out. “That should be good enough.”

Gendry gave him a pleading look. “You could take me with you. I could serve you well.” Stannis could hear the way he wanted to tag “m’lord” on the end of everything he said, but Gendry seemed to know that he couldn’t say that. No one could know that this had ever happened. This conversation had to end before they started to draw attention to themselves. “I’d be good. I’d work and never complain and…”

“No,” Stannis said, shaking his head. “That cannot happen. You would not be safe even there.”

“You mean you wouldn’t?” Even though he sounded angry, Gendry’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Why…why are you doing this? Why are you even bothering to save me? Why are you risking yourself?”

_Because I’m your father. Because I owe you one thing since I left you with nothing. Because I’ll be damned if someone pays for my mistakes. Because it’s time that I own up to my responsibilities. How can I be a king if I cannot even be a father?_

“It would not be right for you to suffer someone else’s indiscretions,” Stannis told him, before turning away from the boy and continuing down the street back in the direction of the harbor. The boy would be on his way to the Wall by tomorrow morning; Stannis knew that much for sure. He had seen the acceptance in the boy’s Baratheon blue eyes, but even after all of this – after completing what he’d set out to do – Stannis still didn’t feel any better. He still felt dirty, but it had nothing to do with the boy and much more to do with himself.

 _“You have king’s blood in you,”_ Melisandre had whispered into his ear just two weeks past.

And if Stannis did, then that boy had it in him as well.

 


End file.
